


to try once more (and then again and again)

by Elzie (gallaxygay)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Farmer Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, because honestly?, i dont remember shit, i say fuck it to the canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallaxygay/pseuds/Elzie
Summary: Keith feels the weight of the sun and of the heat at his back that he's steadfastly ignored thus far, and of Lance's curious gaze, and then he's paralysed with the fear that coming to Lance was a mistake — that by coming to here he has destroyed something sacred. That he's brought hell back to Lance, all fire and fury — and that he's just minutes away from burning down everything good thing Lance has created for himself.-Keith comes back to Lance, and things start again.





	1. beginnings

Lance is weaving through a sea of sunflowers with a soft and confused smile playing at the edges of his lips. He squints at Keith, raising a hand in greeting — Keith is suddenly and acutely aware of the setting sun at his back and the scent of burning flowers in the air. The smoke fills the space between the two. 

"Hey," says Lance eventually. He's gripping the stem of a sunflower with loose hands, eyes wandering in the places behind Keith and Red. "Uh, uh — Keith?”

The sun beats down heavily on Keith's back and the crackle of the fire intensifies. Lance's eyes continue to drift between Keith and the blaze, something like concern in his expression. Keith feels the weight of the sun and of the heat at his back that he's steadfastly ignored thus far, and of Lance's curious gaze, and then he's paralysed with the fear that coming to Lance was a mistake — that by coming to here he has destroyed something sacred. That he's brought hell back to Lance, all fire and fury — and that he's just minutes away from burning down everything good thing Lance has created for himself.  

Lance is watching Keith with careful eyes, his smile had faded away with Keith's lack of response. "Hey," he says again, voice just loud enough to be heard over the fire. "Are you planning on dying up there? Are you dying? Keith, if you're dying you gotta tell me, okay?" 

The breeze blows the ash towards Lance, who's quickly approaching Keith and Red, gently pushing the sunflowers out of the way. He moves purposely through the field, allowing the sunflowers to part with his will.  

As Lance nears, Red crouches to meet his waiting palm and Lance's eyes flutter shut and the markings that adorn his cheekbones pulse with soft, blue light. Red purrs so hard the ground shakes.  

A moment passes.  

Lance's eyes open again. Then, he gently grabs at Keith's hands. Lance is warm, in a different way than the sunset and fire — he's warm like home, in a human way. Lance feels so, so overwhelmingly human in his warmth.  

Lance is gently pulling at Keith, saying, "Keith — okay. I never had the chance to show you around. Let's just — okay, I was just about to have dessert, right? We can share. You really should eat. Let's just — okay — Keith, let's go. We can go home now."  

He's pulled Keith halfway across his sunflower field before Keith finally offers up any resistance. Keith blinks, says, "Your field is burning. Red — I don't — I'm so sorry."  

His apology is met with a shrug and a half-smile. The markings on his cheeks pulse again. He says, "It's fine. It's not like I was selling them or anything, the flowers were just for me."  

And though it's meant to be a consolation, something about it has tears building in Keith's eyes. 

 

-

 

"I'll give you the grand tour later," babbles Lance as he guides Keith through his house, hand on the small of his back. "It's nice here. It's nice and it's not too far away from the beach. I guess, I dunno, maybe it is far. It's forty-five minutes away. I think it's nice. I guess. I guess it's subjective, you know?"

Lance's house is adorned with photos of his family, photos of Hunk, photos of Pidge, and a few photos from Shiro's wedding. He keeps flowers on his kitchen table, daisies, and flowers on his bedside table, also daisies. His bedroom, like always, is sparse, and the corners on his bed are neat — precise in the way that the Garrison demanded. There are five pillows on the bed, perhaps the only true luxury in the room, at least the only luxury not neatly tucked away in a wardrobe. The house smells like spring and cut grass, as though the windows had been open, allowing the breeze to reign free. 

A gentle hand pushes Keith down on to Lance's bed. The sheets are soft beneath his palm. Cotton. Keith can't remember when he last took his gloves off. 

Lance says, “Okay, I brought out sweatpants and a shirt for you. I’m not sure if they’ll fit but take a shower, try them on. See if they fit. You can take a nap or you can come down to the kitchen and we can eat — you should eat. The kitchen is just down the hallway. I'll be there. You should come, afterwards.”

Keith watches Lance leave and the door shuts with barely a sigh. He looks out the window without much ado and sees a mostly scorched field, though, without flames.

 

-

 

Taking off the Blade uniform feels like a breath of fresh air. Keith is suddenly afraid that he'll never be able to put it on again, after feeling fresh air and warmth on his bare skin. But standing in Lance's room, Keith can't bring himself to care about whether or not he touches the uniform again. It feels massively unimportant; the Blade is so, so far away. Though, habit demands that he folds it, placing the clothes on Lance's dresser. The black clashes sharply with the soft greys and blues of the bedroom. 

It's functional, Keith understands that. The uniform is functional and it's black and form-fitting, and it works well on missions — but Lance's house, his farm, it's not a mission. The sweatpants Lance laid out feel soft in Keith's calloused hands, and the shirt smells like lemony detergent. He thinks that the shirt used to be black, but wear and love have faded the black to grey. 

He showers, and revels in the comfort of privacy and warm water. Lance has products in his shower that clearly came from other planets, most of which Keith has no idea what to do with — but his shampoo smells like strawberries and his soap leaves bubbles on Keith's bare skin. The steam bellows from the shower, fogging up the mirror. The sensation of taking a shower is familiar in a way that perhaps Keith had forgotten. He forgoes the conditioner, instead choosing to weave braids into the hair with the water still running. 

Nothing about Lance ever had to do with necessity. He wore face masks during a war, flirting and fast-talking his way through universes of men and women and beautiful people. He didn't and doesn't live only to survive, and although Keith used to criticize him for it, for living in excess — he thinks, living life to enjoy it makes life worth living. And the flowers on his bedside table, the photos on the wall, the sunflowers just-because — it makes life better. It makes it worth it. 

Keith takes a glance in the foggy mirror. 

He feels comfortable. He looks comfortable. Keith can't help but to yearn for everything Lance has, his excess and enjoyment of life. As he continues to stare at his reflection, burning jealousy rises up in his throat for the home that Lance has been able to build for himself. 

 

-

 

The sun has long since set and Lance has his hair pushed back with a red bandana. He's puttering around the kitchen, singing something in Spanish, with a bowl and a whisk in his arms. He startles briefly upon seeing Keith, but then smiles invitingly and gestures to sit at the kitchen table.

Jars upon jars line the tops of the cabinets in the kitchen, full of various preserved fruits. Mostly everything else is neatly put away in the cabinets, with just the flowers, a cutting board, and a knife out of place. Keith always finds himself surprised with Lance's cleanliness. He doesn't know why. 

Lance sets down a bowl of strawberries and cream before Keith with a little clatter and a bow. 

"Want something to drink?" 

Keith shakes his head, but Lance is already grabbing a cup to fill with water. He sets it down, also, before Keith with a cheeky smile. "Self-care, you know? Water is good for your skin."

Lance pours himself a glass of water too, and he sits before Keith with his own bowl. The whipped cream hasn't been sweetened but the strawberries are more than sweet enough to make up for it. It's nice, the dessert, and it's nicer knowing that Lance had taken the time to make Keith something sweet — something Keith hadn't gotten to experience since Shiro's wedding. He finds himself lost in the domesticity of the moment, in his own quiet gratitude at the understanding and kindness that Lance has shown him thus far. 

"So," starts Lance, but then he doesn't say anything else, frowning into his bowl. 

 

-

 

Lance hunches over the sink while washing the dishes. It's only after years of experience that Keith can tell he's hiding, probably from the burden of creating more conversation. His shoulders heave with deep, half-panicked breaths.  

Keith thinks, just for a moment, that he might be watching Lance having a panic attack. But then Lance turns around with something on his face that looks like it's supposed to be a smile. He says, "Do you mind sleeping in the same bed as me? Obviously, there's like, a couch — I just think you deserve to have a good rest. If you're not comfortable then I'll sleep on the couch, 'cause Keith you're looking a little rough, if you don't mind me saying." Lance laughs awkwardly, panic still seeping into his voice, his expression.  

Keith says, "It's fine," because that's the best he can do to comfort Lance in his anxiety. 

It's not really enough, but Lance, Keith knows, understands how to make do with not enough — and his resulting smile is blinding. "Great," he says, eyes crinkling. "I have to, like, get ready for bed but feel free to come back to the bedroom when you're ready. Okay?" 

Keith nods, then realizes that he should do better — for Lance, at least, and says, "Okay." 

 

-

 

The bathroom light shines brightly into the bedroom, and Keith blearily looks up to see Lance grabbing a pair of noise-cancelling headphones from a closet and an eye mask, which he tosses in Keith's direction. He turns off the bathroom light, then pads back to bed. 

"I know you have like, issues, and it gets bright in here in the morning," says Lance simply.

A moment passes, Keith can almost hear the hesitation Lance is feeling. 

Then, "I'm gonna — Keith, we're gonna do what it takes to make this better for you. I have all the time in the world, so don't like, get scared and run away, or whatever. We'll fix this. And you get to have whatever happy ending you're looking for, okay? I'll help you. We're partners and damn near unstoppable, so please let me help you tomorrow. Okay? We can do this." 

Keith doesn't say anything, mostly because he's afraid he'll cry. 

 


	2. morning time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith wakes up and to the bright light of the morning

The room, as promised, is bright with the white light of the morning. It's almost overwhelming to shift from the complete darkness enforced by the eye mask into light so bright it leaves Keith breathless, just briefly. He's resilient. Morning permeates the air so thickly that Keith is briefly tempted to simply readjust the sleeping mask and sleep until the sun no longer feels so violent. 

Lance is gone, the bed cold in his absence. So Keith indulges himself and lies back, arms and legs spread wide with his eyes shut. He breathes in deeply. The bedroom smells like strawberries and Lance. 

The rest was wonderful, but the feeling of being so completely at ease is wonderfully  _new_. Keith thinks, quite honestly, that he has never had the opportunity to let his guard down and relax quite in the way he has in the last twelve hours. He takes a catalogue of his life (foster families, the Garrison, Shiro, Voltron, his mother), and finds that perhaps only when he was too young to create memories, that he was able to exist with so few worries. 

As minutes pass, Keith finds himself falling back to sleep, sprawled out in the middle of Lance's bed. He doesn't resist it, instead, basking in the warmth of the sun and the feeling of soft, warm fabrics against his skin. 

 

- 

 

Keith dreams of the war. Of Zarkon. Of Lotor. Of Allura. Of the Blade.

 

- 

 

Lance shakes Keith awake with gentle hands, touching Keith, but just barely. He's also, just barely, hovering over Keith with a frown playing at the edges of his lips. 

For everything that Lance is, loud and kind and touchy and  _so-much_ , he respects Keith's space in a way which is just so understanding that it gives Keith pause, time and time again. It had taken Lane some time, a lot of things about Keith had, but when he got it, he  _had it_  — and Lance has been unceasing in his efforts to keep Keith comfortable ever since. That might be the reason that Keith feels so comfortable laying in Lance's bed, in Lance's room, on Lance's property. It might be why Keith had gone running from space and into Lance's own space, to his sweetness and warmth, and not back to Shiro, his old foster parents, the Garrison, or his Krolia. 

"Keith," breathes Lance, still hovering, unsure. He doesn't say anything else, seemingly at a loss for words. 

Before he has a chance to talk himself out of it, Keith is saying, "I need help, Lance. I really need it. I'm sorry. I need help."

Lance's eyebrows shoot up, then he's smoothing back the covers over top of Keith and plucking the eye mask off of his head. His hands worry briefly over Keith's hair, which he's sure is a disaster, before pulling away and heading towards the door. Lance is wearing overalls and socks with cats on them. He smiles at Keith, then, for real. Comfort. Lance is comforting Keith. He says, "Yeah, okay. I'll go grab you breakfast." 

The door shuts with a click. Keith sighs and flexes his hands, trying to assuage the guilt in his fingers and toes. 

Keith looks out the window, and instead of burnt stalks and scorched ground, he sees Blue and then Lance, poking his head out of the door to shout something unintelligible. Then, water from a nearby stream is suddenly weaving through the air and wind and into neatly spaced seed plots. A continuous stream efficiently dips into each crevice and Keith vaguely wonders if that was the reason why Lance was so quiet — focussed on something else instead, maybe. After a few moments of watching, Lance haphazardly waves a hand through the air. The suspended water falls to the ground as rain. Then, Lance shoes away Blue with something on hi face that Keith thinks looks like laughter. 

About two minutes and forty-three seconds pass before Lance waltzes back into the bedroom with a bowl of oatmeal decorated with chopped strawberries and desiccated coconut. And, oh, the sweetness that Lance moves with takes Keith's breath away. He means well, as always, and he's so, so wonderful at showing it — in unquestioning acceptance, in desserts, and eye masks, and forgiveness, and patience. 

Keith takes a deep breath. And then eats a spoonful of oatmeal to further prolong the silence. The oatmeal tastes like almond milk and fruit, and it's warm, but not too warm. Lance must grow strawberries somewhere on his property. "You know what we...what happened with the Blade?" asks Keith.

Lance nods, moving to sit down on the end of the bed. He doesn't offer any verbal response, though, picking at a thread from the comforter. It's hard to tell what Lance knows. He talks with Shiro and Hunk every once in a while, who are both much more involved with the comings and goings of the universe. He wonders if anyone takes the time to update Lance about things. 

"There's one last mission," says Keith. Eventually. He forgets to count the seconds of his hesitation, mostly because he's too absorbed in his own hesitation, but Keith knows that it was long enough for Lance's discomfort to double, triple — and it shows on his face. 

Half a minute elapses before Lance finally looks up from the comforter, a grimace marring his features. The marks on his cheeks pulse, nearly as fast as Keith's own heart. Then, "I guess you're not just here for fun, huh? Not crashing into my flowers just to say hello?" 

It's a joke. It's not really. Lance looks like he wants to bolt. And —

Keith feels like he's choking on guilt. His eyes grow wet, staring back at Lance, eyelashes sticking together slightly. He waits for something from Lance, some expression or exclamation or rejection to fuel his own guilt and regret. It's selfish and Keith knows he must be the worst person to have ever had the terrible pleasure of infecting Lance's life with his own brand of narcissism. Keith doesn't have the willpower or time to count and recount the harm he causes Lance. Perhaps that unwillingness is selfishness too. 

"Is it an assassination?" asks Lance finally, with the barest hint of resignation colouring his tone. 

It is. Keith blinks and nods. 

"I figured," says Lance. "Sniping skills, the works. I guessed." 

Keith, actually, came running back to Lance because Lance feels like home. He came running back to Lance looking for warmth and sweetness and kindness. He fell from space and into Lance's backyard because he was overwhelmed and he  _knew_ that Lance is ceaselessly reliable. 

"Please?" says Keith. 

Maybe he just wanted an excuse to be around Lance again. 

Lance grins. "Sure," he says. "Just one last mission, okay?" 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uHHHHHH ya so forgive me for not updating in so long im a lazy bitch and i wanted to make something good so it's gotta take fuckin. forever
> 
> also i finally looked up spoilers for how voltron season 8 ended. also. i only watched up til season 6. lol
> 
> ok please leave me lov

**Author's Note:**

> ok.......... did i disappear for actual, literal months ? yes. did i watch the last two seasons of voltron ? no. am i still fucking excited to share this fic with y'all???? YUHUH
> 
> i'm really liking this one and i'm planning a good bit of story. leave kudos/a comment (preferably a comment) to lemme know if you liked it !!! ciao


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